


Seven

by Kitashi



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M, Feyre POV, High Lady Reveal, Inspired by Art, Pre-ACOWAR Release, blogtealdeal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-10-14 07:16:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10531557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitashi/pseuds/Kitashi
Summary: Feyre has been in the Spring Court, and now it’s finally time to leave. And she plans to reveal herself to its High Lord in the most dramatic way possible.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tealdeal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tealdeal/gifts).



> First off, I know this isn’t the fourth and final chapter of my Tarquin fic, & for that, I am very sorry. It’s almost done though, I promise!
> 
> This one came to me suddenly on my way to work on Friday, and I just couldn’t get it out of my head. This fic is inspired by @blogtealdeal‘s amazing art on Tumblr of Feyre on the Spring Court throne (see _[here](https://blogtealdeal.tumblr.com/post/158457650358/feyre-revealing-herself-in-the-spring-court-atop)_ ).
> 
> Thank you to @illyriantremors, my most favorite favorite, for always indulging me and reading over these fics and keeping me going, and to my beloved real life sister who helped me fix my issues with this when canon got in the way of my plans lol I’m blessed to have both of you in my life.
> 
> Without further ado, I hope you enjoy!

_Tomorrow._

The letter with that single word had lain in the middle of my bed, rolled up with my star sapphire ring used as its seal. If the note, written in my mate’s handwriting, hadn't spoken for itself, the ring screamed it. I hadn't seen it since the night before we went to Hybern. The night before I became so many things to my true home, to my Court, and to my mate.

My mate.

I had missed Rhys more than I could say. The occasional notes back and forth in the middle of the night were balm for my soul during these many weeks, usually while I watched from my window seat as Tamlin lay on my bed living out a daemati woven fantasy that involved us. It was almost amusing to see him writhing on the bed by himself, but the fact that he truly believed that I was his after everything that had happened—after everything and everyone he had sacrificed to Hybern without a thought to get me back—

I shook my head, trying to think of something else, anything else. I looked at the ring in my hands and ran my finger over the sparkling sapphire and pearls lovingly. I wanted to put it on right now. I wanted to march down the stairs, and show Tamlin before I spun on my heel and left. Before I went _home_.

But these sort of games were best played with more… finesse.

A grin spread across my face as my plan began to form.

~~~

I walked down the stairs to lunch the next afternoon in the high collared—but somehow still low cut and revealing—pink dress that Alis had said that Tamlin requested. It wasn't the least bit comfortable, and my hair was pulled back with a matching ribbon band before letting it fall in curls at my shoulders. Another of Tamlin's requests. I felt the weight of my ring on my left hand, glamoured to look like the gaudy emerald and gold engagement ring that Tamlin had bestowed upon me within days of my return—almost an exact copy of the first one I’d destroyed in my panic at being trapped in the manor. I was nervous. Rhys hadn't given me any indication of when he was coming or what exactly he was going to do to get me out of here, but the prospect of seeing my mate again was making it difficult to act natural. I had planted the idea in Alis’s head with ease to make an impromptu overnight visit to the village hours ago. Lucien and Tamlin sat in their usual places at the table, and Tamlin gave me a loving smile as I approached, holding his hand out to me. I pasted a somehow believable smile on my face and willed myself to blush as he kissed my hand.

“You look lovely today, Feyre.”

“She looks like a cake,” Lucien muttered before shoving a forkful of food in his mouth. I felt the corner of my mouth twitch as I fought back a smile at the look Tamlin gave him as I sat down.

“Aren't you going to eat anything, Feyre?” Lucien asked, noting my empty plate. I clenched my fist underneath the table and shook my head.

“No, I’m not really—”

A piece of paper suddenly appeared in the middle of my plate. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Lucien frozen, his fork halfway to his mouth, and Tamlin with his brow furrowed in confusion. Again, only one word was on the paper.

_Now._

A guard burst into the dining hall, panicked.

“Lord Tamlin,” he panted. “Intruders! The Night Court—” Tamlin was on his feet before the guard finished his sentence and looked at Lucien with a wordless command that Lucien bowed his head to and quickly left the room. Tamlin looked at me.

“Feyre, hide somewhere safe. I will come and get you once it's clear.” He turned to the guard. “Protect her,” he ordered.

I creased my brow into the best act of worry I could muster. “But Tam—”

“Go!” he roared. Before I could argue, he was gone. I turned to the guard, who looked extremely nervous and very determined to please his High Lord. A minor inconvenience at worst.

“You can leave,” I said to him after a moment of staring at him. “I can take care of myself.”

He shook his head. “Lady, Lord Tamlin said—”

His mental shields were like wet paper. “You will leave,” I said to him authoritatively. “You got me somewhere safe. You followed your High Lord’s orders.” His face relaxed and he smiled as the new order settled into his mind. I almost felt sorry for him as I strode past him into the foyer.

A battle waged between Illyrian warriors and Spring Court sentinels in front of me that extended outside to the front drive. To my relief, the Illyrians seemed to be winning. I wove quickly through the chaos, with no one so much as sparing me a glance. But no one would stop me. The Spring Court soldiers wouldn't dare risk hurting their High Lord's chosen bride, and the Illyrians or anyone from the Night Court hurting me was utterly laughable. As I rounded the corner to the hall outside of where I had planned, I noticed a familiar hulking frame out of the corner of my eye and stopped. Cassian was battling a sentinel, but judging from his stance, he almost seemed to be toying with him. His wings looked to be patched all over with something that made the membrane shine silvery through the red-gold I’d come to expect, but I was relieved to see that they seemed to be fine. Without missing a beat as he knocked out the man in front of him, he turned towards me. His hazel eyes lit up and he gave me a roguish grin as he looked me over.

“Your taste in clothes needs some improvement, Feyre,” he called as he threw another brazen soldier back with a Siphon shield without even looking, knocking him out cold against the wall. I flashed a rude gesture at him that only made his grin grow wider.

“Say that again once we’re home, Cassian, and we’ll talk about my wardrobe _and_ yours.” He laughed and gave me a respectful nod before heading back into the fray. I kept moving, avoiding the soldiers where I could, and threw open a set of gilded doors. For my plan to go the way I wanted, I needed to go to the one place that Tamlin would try to protect if the battle got too intense—here.

The throne before me was much like its master—golden, flowery, with many hidden thorns. The roses that adorned the top seemed so innocent. Perfect for the image I wanted to portray. I moved across the room, climbed the raised dais, and settled onto the throne, which was uncomfortable to say the least. Even the one in the Court of Nightmares was more comfortable. I ignored the inner voice in my head that suggested that it had less to do with the throne, and more with _who_ I’d been sitting on.

I waited. Hours passed, and my back began to hurt from the throne arm digging into it. I had forgone sitting properly a while ago, and had pulled the what seemed to be never ending piles of restrictive pink fabric, revealing the short white petticoats underneath, up over my crossed legs that now dangled over the other side of the throne. In my boredom, I had created a water wolf to sit next to me, to add to the image I wanted to portray, but even it seemed bored waiting for Tamlin, now lying at the foot of the dias, occasionally letting out a distinctly canine yawn as it dozed. I began wondering if Tamlin had fled his court. It seemed like something he would do.

Suddenly, I heard footsteps in the hallway outside. I mentally felt for the person’s mind and, to my delight, came into contact with a wall of thorns and roses. As he came closer, I made myself more comfortable on the throne, though I didn't bother to sit properly.

 _In here_ , I whispered into Tamlin's mind as I slipped past his shields with ease.

He walked into the throne room almost hesitantly, a sword in his hand. He straightened.

“Feyre, you need to get somewhere safe,” he hissed. “That monster thinks he is going to take you again, but I won't let him.”

I almost felt a twinge of pity for him. He truly believed that he was doing what was right. Suddenly, he seemed to register where I was. “Feyre, why are you sitting on my throne?”

I shrugged nonchalantly. “I figured there is no place safer than the heart of the Spring Court.”

Tamlin took a step towards me, but was stopped by a growling sound at my feet. I looked down to see my water wolf in a low, defensive position, hackles up as he looked straight at Tamlin.

“Feyre, what the hell is that?” His eyes were locked on the watery beast before him.

I smirked. “I believe it's a wolf, Tamlin.”

He scowled. “I can see that. But what's it _made_ of?”

“I thought it was pretty obvious, but when I died—” I saw him flinch at the word choice. Perfect. “I gained a little more than was probably intended. So I guess he would best be described as a gift from the Summer Court.”

Tamlin eyed the wolf warily, though I could tell from his stance he was just looking for a weak spot—a way to get past it to me. “Feyre, call him off. You are in no danger with me. You know that.”

“No, Tamlin, I don't know that.” The wolf’s growl got louder as Tamlin took another step towards it and me. He angled his sword, and almost too fast, swung.

Before he could complete the arc and actually hit something, Tamlin dropped his sword with a yelp of pain and a loud clatter, the handle now glowing red on the floor a few feet from him—closer to the wolf now. He held his hand with a wince and I could see now that the burn had been worse than I intended—not so bad that fae healing wouldn't fix it, but I could tell it hurt.

“Ouch, that looks bad,” I simpered. “Too bad you don't have someone from the Dawn Court to heal it. Of course, there _is_ also me, but I don't really feel like giving you my blood.” Tamlin moved towards me again, and this time, the wolf launched at him, knocking him to the ground. With a wave of my hand, the wolf lost its form, drenching Tamlin in water. As he crawled onto his knees, coughing from the sudden splash, I froze his hands and feet to the floor in thick shackles of ice. He pulled at them futilely, and looked at me in shock.

“Gifts from Autumn and Winter.” I rolled a ball of fire from the top of one hand to the other, juggling it with practiced ease and grinned at him as he looked at me with genuine fear. “Are you having fun yet, Tamlin?” I asked, splitting the fireball into three and rotating them in my hand. “Because I certainly am.” I let the fire disappear.

“Someone will notice I’m gone,” he said defiantly.

“No one is coming, Tamlin.” I swept my hand towards the doors. “At least, not for awhile. They have enough to worry about outside.”

“What is that on your finger,” he asked suddenly. “Where is your ring?” So he’d noticed. I smiled and held the star sapphire up to the light, admiring the way the it sparkled.

“Do you like it? I got it from the Weaver of the Wood.” I heard him inhale sharply. “She had been keeping it safe at a brave and innocent woman's request. Only someone who could retrieve it and live would survive being married to her son.” I could tell my references were lost on Tamlin. Not that it mattered.

“You are marrying me,” he argued. He was still watching me warily.

“No, I’m not.” He looked stunned, as though he’d been slapped across the face. I smiled.

“But you know, this ring is not the only thing I got while I was away.” I let a large pair of Illyrian wings manifest behind me, the tip of one scraping the floor, and finally removed the glamour from the tattoo on my right hand. “Do you like them?”

“What did he do to you?” Tamlin asked in horror. I narrowed my eyes.

“ _My mate_ has a name, Tamlin. Rhys saved me. But these—” I gestured to the membranous wings over my shoulder. “These are from _you_ actually. Shifting is such a useful ability. And this—” I held up my arm, twisting it so he could see the marks clearer. “Well, I think High Lady of the Night Court has a nice ring to it, don't you?”

“There are no such thing as High Ladies.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Must you insist on being so backwards?”

“He isn't your mate, Feyre,” Tamlin pleaded, as though he thought he would make some sort of breakthrough with me. “He only made you believe he was. The King took care of—”

“The King of Hybern is an arrogant fool who can't tell the difference between a bargain and a mate bond,” I snapped. “And you—I’m not even sure I have words to describe what I think of _you_.”

“Feyre, this—”

“ _This_ is who I am, Tamlin.” I let the comfort of Rhys's darkness— _my_ darkness—that I had kept locked away wash over me, and watched his eyes widen as he tried to comprehend what he was seeing. Suddenly, his expression hardened.

“If you're going to kill me, you had better do it quickly,” he said stiffly. I rolled my eyes.

“I’m not going to kill you, Tamlin.”

“Then why are you doing this?” he asked. I shrugged.

“I was torn from my human life because of a curse, for trying to keep my family alive. I was _killed_ for freeing you and your court. I almost died _again_ because I suffered from what being Under the Mountain did to me. And you ignored it.” I closed my eyes and let out a shuddering breath. “You ignored it, and were willing to let me waste away, if it meant I was safe.”

“I was trying to protect you,” he insisted. “I love—”

“Too much love can be a poison, Tamlin. In an effort to protect me, you smothered any light that was left in me. And I should probably thank you.” I let a tendril of shadow snake its way across the floor towards Tamlin, who tugged on his restraints trying to get away from it. “By doing what you did, you helped me to find that my strength comes from the comfort found in the solace of Night.”

He didn't say anything for a long moment. Finally, he asked, “What is number seven?” I raised an eyebrow, not following him.

“That's six courts you’ve shown gifts for.” He narrowed his eyes. “What did you get from the Day Court?”

Clearly his curiosity had gotten the better of him. I stared at him coolly. “Something that you will never see, because I no longer feel anything for you.” I felt a tug on the bond—oh how I had missed that feeling—inquiring where I was. I sent back a loving caress. “And there's my cue. But before I go...” I wiped his mind of all the powers he’d seen, but left the feelings attached with his reactions to them. “After all, I can't have you telling Hybern what to expect when I finally meet him on the battlefield. And I will.” I wiggled my tattooed fingers in a mocking goodbye and strode for the gilded doors once more.

“You’re not just going to leave me here, are you?”

I stopped next to him, looking into his green eyes. There was a time that I would have willingly drowned myself in that gaze. I shook my head and patted his cheek condescendingly.

“I’m sure someone will come eventually. After all, you said yourself that someone is bound to notice you are missing. Otherwise, the ice should melt after a while.” I walked past him without another glance. “Goodbye, Tamlin.” I winnowed away.

I squinted as I was on the rolling hills outside the manor, the orange-gold of the sunset too sudden of a change, too bright after being inside. I looked around. I was near the cave from Calanmai.

“There you are. I’ve been looking for you,” a midnight voice said from behind me. My heart skipped a beat, and I turned around to see my mate only feet away from me, taking me in—a thrill of questioning excitement crossing the bond as he beheld the wings I still had out. I smirked at him.

“Hello, Rhysand darling,” I said in my best imitation of him. His violet eyes lit up, dancing.

“Only my enemies call me Rhysand,” he answered teasingly.

“Prick,” I said, tears suddenly choking my voice and blurring my vision. I desperately tried to blink them away. His expression softened and he crossed the distance between us in mere steps, gathering me up in his arms and enveloping me in citrus, jasmine, and the sea.

“That’s more like it,” Rhys murmured softly, stroking my hair as I clung to his shirt with one hand, feeling the steady, grounding beat in his chest that told me I wasn't imagining things. He really was _here_. I wasn't alone anymore. My heart was full to bursting at the thought. I felt a chuckle rumble in his chest beneath my ear.

“As much as this boosts my ego, darling, you’re going to give us away.” I looked up at him, to see his face glowing in the growing darkness around us.

Glowing.

I looked down at my hands, and realized they were glowing, just like the rest of me.

“Seven,” I whispered almost to myself. He tilted his head.

“What was that?”

I shook my head and smiled radiantly at him. “Nothing. Let's go home.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you thought! All comments and suggestions are welcome, & if you have a POV/scene you would really like to see, please let me know! Thank you for reading!
> 
> Also, I have a writing Tumblr! If anyone is interested in talking & discussing ACOTAR, ACOMAF, or giving suggestions/asking questions, I can be found at _<http://kitashiwrites.tumblr.com>_.
> 
> Hope to see you there!


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